Playing Cards
by thelittlecaligrapher
Summary: It all started with a New Year's party and a conversation with Rachel Berry that would change everything for Quinn that year. [Previously titled New Year, New Me]
1. The Smell of Snow

A/N: AU in which Quinn and Rachel are not enemies but rather acquaintances that have had their differences in the past and have moved to a place of civility and _supposed_ indifference with each other.

* * *

Quinn trotted up the steps, escaping the disaster zone her basement had become. Her friends were all either drunk, busy flirting with someone at this absurd party, or both, and she for one could no longer stand to watch the train wreck that was becoming. She slipped through the door and closed it quietly behind her, hoping no one would notice her absence from her own party. If it had been left up to her, she would've just as soon spent the night staying up with Brittany and Santana instead of hosting a party she had no desire to partake in.

It was getting close to midnight, the finish line Quinn couldn't reach fast enough. Her parents would let her excuse herself after the ball dropped. It wouldn't be seen as rude; a good daughter needed plenty of sleep, after all, and god knows she couldn't just sleep in. A good daughter always got up at a reasonable time. It was the way of things. There were no excuses for wasting time "sleeping the day away." It just wasn't proper.

But eloquence was wearing thin on Quinn by now. She'd much rather just pass as civil. Eloquence took too much effort, too much time. Civility was far more practical. But Fabrays didn't have to worry themselves with practicality. They could hire someone for that.

Quinn pressed a pristine, practiced smile to her lips, winding through the crowd of her parents friends, acquaintances, and coworkers, eyes firmly set ahead as to avoid any actual interactions. Eloquence, hospitality, grace… she wished she could throw it all out the window. And the house guests with them.

She paused on her way to her father's office, the one room she knew would be empty — the only room in the house with its own separate key. A key Quinn knew exactly where to find. But she halted, hesitating in the living room doorway when she caught sight of Berry slipping out the door to the backyard. Chewing on her lip, Quinn waited only a moment before allowing herself to follow, pulling a heavy coat from the hall tree beside the exit, wrapping herself up against the biting cold outdoors.

The world was white all around Quinn as she left the heat of her parents' home. Snow crunched softly under her feet when she stepped outside onto the patio. Rachel had already made it the to swing set Quinn hadn't been on in years. She tried to place her feet in the tracks Berry left behind, doing her best not to disrupt the snow any more than she had to. Quinn watched the other girl raise her head as she heard Quinn's footsteps trucking through the snow.

"Hey," she sighed quietly, her voice carrying a smile her mouth did not wear.

"You look nice, tonight, Berry." It was true. She had forgone her usual modest dress and knee-length socks in favor of some tight-fitting black jeans, a wine red blouse, a peacoat, and heavy grey scarf. She looked warm and Quinn had to admit that it was refreshing to see her wearing something other than an outfit that could have come straight out of a schoolgirl porno.

Berry inclined her head but Quinn caught the small smile creasing her lips anyway. "Thank you. You look lovely as always, Quinn."

Quinn grunted in response, wrapping her coat more tightly around herself as she perched on the cold swing next to Berry's. "Not enjoying the party?" she changed the subject.

"Just wanted some fresh air. I love the way it smells right after a good snow. What about you?"

"I dunno," Quinn shrugged. "I've never really noticed the difference, I guess."

Berry smiled and shook her head. "I meant about the party. Not your cup of tea?"

"To put it lightly, I don't even like tea. I'm more of a coffee drinker, me."

Berry made a sound of agreement in the back of her throat.

"These things are just so depressing if you don't have someone to kiss. Though the one time I did had to be worse than this." Quinn grimaced at the memory and her company noticed.

"How so?" Berry prodded, pumping her legs hard enough to start a swinging motion.

"It was with Finn, and my mom had been dropping hints that we should kiss at midnight the entire week leading up to the party. It was so awkward. Everyone was watching like it was some big show. It's not very enjoyable having your very protective father watch your first boyfriend lay one on you at your mother's insistence. The whole thing was so freaking uncomfortable and so very staged."

"That does sound rather awful. But at least you have that life milestone," Berry added with a shrug.

"Guessing you don't?" Quinn dug the toe of her shoe into the snow before kicking hard off the ground. Her head fell backwards on queue and made her feel like the world was spinning. Why had it been so long since she played on this swing set? She used to love swinging.

"That would require someone to kiss, and since my first kiss in eighth grade, I haven't had that chance." Her words were easy, like it didn't bother her, and Quinn supposed that maybe it really didn't. Berry had never seemed like the type to let something as trivial as romance and significant others, or lack there of, to make her feel inferior. She seemed far too ambitious for that.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Quinn told her, as if she needed consoling on the matter anyway.

"You're very different outside of school," Berry commented thoughtfully, her tone sounding far more casual than the words were. She said them with such confidence, a statement of fact that no one could deny and Quinn felt very thinly veiled at that moment.

"Not always," she admitted anyway. And why the hell not. She knew Berry well enough to know she wouldn't tell anyone about this. She was the type to keep all her interactions private, keeping to herself more than even Quinn, sometimes. "I just keep forgetting who it is I'm talking to." Berry quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think I've ever seen you without a dress on. It's like you're a completely different person."

"You know what they say— new year, new me," she quipped with a sharp curve of her lips.

Quinn nodded, a small smile claiming her own. She licked them when a raindrop hit her cheek and slid down to her mouth.

"Mmm, we should head inside," Berry said quickly before slinging herself off her swing, landing with a thud into the snow just a few feet away.

Quinn let her feet scuff against the snow, dragging herself to a gracelessly rough stop.

"I think I'll stay just a little longer," Quinn breathed, tilting her head to the sky, begging for the gentle misting that was starting to fall around them. A heavy sigh sunk through her chest as she let go and breathed deeply through her nose. It did kind of smell different, now that she thought about it. Drifting, she wished she could stay in this moment forever, chin turned to the starry sky and reality a thousand miles from touching her. That's what she wished for this new year; somewhere she could just let go, a swing to forget her worries on, and a reality so unlike the one she had been surrounded by her whole life. Eloquence, hospitality, grace — all out the window.

"Hey…" Berry called her back softly, "where did you go just now? I don't think I've ever seen that smile before." She had almost forgotten the other girl was even there.

"Just wondering what the new year will be like, I guess."

Berry fixed her with a charmed stare and softly curled lips. "Anything you want it to be. As they say - new year, new you."

"That'd be nice," Quinn hummed softly.

"Just don't change too much though; I like the way you are now. I'd be sad if it went away." Quinn's eyes landed heavily on Berry. They had never spoken remotely intimately before, they had never say anything running deeper than the surface. Gliding compliments, sure, but never something that could actually mean much of anything. But Berry was stepping over their odd boundary now and Quinn wasn't sure what that meant.

"TEN NINE…"

The countdown snapped Quinn out of her thoughts with a jump. "You should probably say your goodbye now, then. I don't like who I am very much these days, so..."

Berry stepped closer, stopping Quinn's rocking motion completely with a grip on the swing chains to either side of her.

"Not goodbye," she told Quinn firmly, another statement of fact. "Just see you later, 'kay?"

Quinn nodded automatically, for a reason she really wasn't sure of.

"FIVE, FOUR…"

Whether out of blind courage stemming from neither of them acting themselves tonight or out of want to not feel so ridiculously alone, Quinn wrapped her fist in the scarf hanging around Berry's neck, tugging at it gently and turning her chin up to the other girl.

"See you later then, Rachel."

"THREE, TWO, ONE!"

Quinn pulled more firmly at the scarf, leading Rachel down to level with her mouth. Berry followed willingly, pressing herself firmly into Quinn's kiss. A chill trickled down her spine as Rachel slid a hand through Quinn's hair and against the back of her neck to pull them a little closer. Four thundering heartbeats later Berry gently pulled away, taking a sigh from Quinn's mouth with her.

"Happy New Year, Quinn. Or whoever you are now," she revised with a light smile before turning gracefully on her heel and trudging back inside.

Quinn stayed put on her childhood swing, breathing snowy air and tasting a flavor of lip gloss she didn't own.


	2. Control

A/N: Thank you for all of the feedback, faves, and follows. They seriously mean the world to me and are such an encouragement. Any and all comments, questions, and constructive criticism is very appreciated whether it's just a single line or multiple paragraphs. I'm glad you guys enjoyed the first chapter and I hope the second one is just as fun to read. Now without further adieu, chapter 2: Control.

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Trapped. That was how Quinn felt. Like a hot fist was clenched around her throat, squeezing all the life she had left in her out through her teared up eyes. She made herself stare at her own reflection, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, nose turned up. This would not do. This was not strength, this was not control. She had lost all of that somewhere along the way. And Quinn Fabray would not go back to the days when she didn't have control. That would not do.

Swallowing hard and rolling her jaw, she raised the scissor, hesitating only a brief moment before taking the deadly plunge and pushing the blades closed around a lock of blonde hair. It fell into the sink, already forgotten, a shower of other hairs raining down on it soon after.

Eloquence, hospitality, grace.

She would cut all of these words off and give each a new meaning. She breathed eloquence with each snip, each lock dropping from her hands numbly. She would house control within her bones, a perfect host as always, and shed the loss at her doorstep. She wielded the scissor with the utmost grace as she pushed them through her hair, one strand at a time falling away, breeding control in its wake. She would show her parents what a perfect daughter they had fostered, what a perfect daughter looked like. She would show them the anger they had bred for so long.

"Luce—" Frannie's words stuck in her throat as she barged through Quinn's bathroom door and took in the sight.

Steeling herself, cold as she could muster, Quinn turned to face her sister. "Yes?"

"What did you— why—" Her sister stopped and took a deep breath, eyes roving over what was left of Quinn's hair. "Lucy…" she started softly, taking the couple steps it took to reach Quinn, hands going to pull at stray locks.

Quinn harvested every ounce of indifference left in her brittle bones. "What?" she managed, sounding far smaller than she intended.

Frannie just stared at her for a few long moments, a solid mask frozen over her face to keep Quinn at bay. Finally, her expression softened and she tugged on a group of hairs hanging in Quinn's eyes. Frannie sighed heavily. "Want any help?" she asked with a small smile, and Quinn felt her new act slip a little in disbelief. But she immediately knew she shouldn't have been so shocked. Frannie was the one person in their family who had ever actually maintained a sense of eloquence, hospitality, grace, despite circumstances. And she had always been Quinn's number one, always been the one to take her side, no matter what. Even when she didn't agree.

Quinn stared fiercely up at her sister, feeding off Frannie's own confidence until she felt like she could turn without breaking under the weight of what she had just done to herself. Clearing her throat, she stared herself down in the mirror, chin turned up again, and without looking away told her sister, "I'm thinking pink, once I'm done cutting it."

Frannie only stalled for a moment before stepping up beside Quinn and squeezing her shoulder tightly. "I think that'll look great, Luce."

Quinn decided this year she would come up with her own terms to live by.

* * *

"OUT. I WANT YOU OUT!" Russel Fabray screamed at the top of his lungs, red faced and spluttering.

"Honey, be reasonable," Judy started in, still a little faint from the sight of Quinn's pink hair.

Quinn sat in her designated dinner seat, stone cold and calm. These were her terms. Bravery, control, calm.

"Be reasonable? Be reasonable, Judy? Our daughter has defaced her hair beyond repair!" Quinn watched a little spit fly from her father's lips.

"I'm sure there's something Jessica can do," her mother jumped to assured him.

"I'm not going to a hair dresser. I like the way it is now," Quinn argued, exasperated statements sighing for her. Firm, calm, calculated. This is how she would survive her parents.

They didn't even hear her.

"Dad, you are not kicking Quinn out. Mom, Jessica isn't going to fix her hair. This is your daughter, you're talking about, daddy. It's Quinn. And I swear, if you try throwing her out, you won't hear from me for a very long time," Frannie threatened vehemently. Quinn sent her a look of exhausted thanks and silently prayed that someday she would be as strong as her big sister.

* * *

The gasps were resoundingly satisfying and the echo of them following Quinn's regal stride down the hallway left her swallowing a smirk all the way down her throat. Her eyes slid over her peers, smooth as silk. She didn't give a single one of them a moment's pause, lingering on none. They were below her. She was everything her former self had failed to reach. Old Quinn would have worried over what the whispers were saying about her. New Quinn was above caring. Firm, calm, calculated. This was how she would survive her world. No one could touch her.

"Hello, Quinn." A statement.

Well, almost no one.

Quinn cleared her throat, turning, face contorting into a look of smug confidence. A light smile hung on the corner of her lips, placed oh so carefully there. "Hello, Rachel." she said back in the same tone, tilting her head to the side, letting a little more genuine smile flash over her mouth briefly for the girl. Rachel was the reason for all of this. She was the catalyst for control. She was the push that gave Quinn her life back. And for that, Quinn would allow herself some small kindness, some falter in the arrogant resolve. Not a chink in the armor, but more of an outlet, Quinn reasoned. Because above all else, she knew Rachel Berry would not be the one to break her.

Rachel met Quinn's smile with a brighter one of her own. Taking the other girl in for the first time, Quinn noticed that Rachel seemed to be following the trend of a change in wardrobe. And Quinn couldn't help but find the change oddly enchanting. She was tucked neatly away in a pair of tight grey jeans, a heavy sweater, and a matching grey knit beanie. She looked like a freaking hipster and Quinn couldn't bring herself to be appalled by it. Somehow, it actually looked good on Rachel, and her eyes gleamed brilliantly as they rolled approvingly over Quinn in return.

"Well, the new year sure has changed you," Ber— Rachel remarked with a smirk Quinn had never seen before.

She looked down at herself with a shrug. "I needed a change," was all Quinn gave her.

"I wasn't talking about your clothes," Rachel said with a chuckle. Quinn raised a practiced eyebrow in question. "Does the new year have you calling everyone by their first name now?" Rachel elaborated with an exaggerated sigh.

Quinn stopped herself from blinking in surprise. Nothing seemed to get past Rachel. Recovering, she tipped her head and lit a smirk on her lips. "Just trying something new. I could trash the idea, if you don't like it, Berry." She added a shrug, barely managing not to stumble over the name. She had spent the entire week trying to break herself of calling Rachel by it.

The other girl only furrowed her eyebrows and smiled smoothly. "A very generous offer, but Rachel suits me fine, Fabray." Quinn stomach clenched — only mostly from the chuckle she stifled — and only allowed an unimpressed snort to weasel its way out.

"Yeah, you know," Quinn said with a nonchalant hand swish. "I'm really nothing but generous. It's just in my nature," she intoned, hiding her smile with practiced ease.

"Oh yes, I became all too familiar with your _generosity_ on New Years, Quinn Fabray," Rachel said with a sly wink and Quinn felt her cheeks flame far too much for her liking. She swallowed slickly and realized she needed to end this conversation now.

_Control_, she told herself firmly.

She fumbled for a reply that could even the playing field and fell miserably short, just in time to be saved by the bell.

"Right. Well I'll see you around, Rachel," was all she could muster as she took her escape.

"Definitely. Like possibly at Odd's after school," Rachel replied with an aloof shrug and a hopeful grin and Quinn felt her stomach clench from anything but laughter. Instead of dropping her jaw like she worried she would, Quinn just offered a sincere smile in return. "Just a possibility," Rachel remarked with a little more confidence and shrugged again with a coy turn of her lips this time.

"If you play your cards right, Berry…" she trailed off, playing against Rachel's own coyness. But Quinn already knew she would be at that coffee shop as soon as the final bell set her free. And she honestly, wasn't quite sure what to make of that realization.


	3. Father Doesn't Always Know Best

To let you all know, from here on out, this story is going to be titled Playing Cards. I hope it doesn't inconvenience anyone but "New Year, New Me" was never intended to be the final title, just a filler. Thanks for understanding, and enjoy chapter 3.

* * *

The smell of coffee grounds assaulted Quinn as soon as she cracked open the heavy door. Warmth wrapped tightly around her, chasing away the chill in her fingertips and nose. Odd's Cafe was, thankfully, not busy by the time Quinn walked in. A handful of tables were laid out across the store, looking a little ghostly without occupants or dishes and the tiny coffee shop was deserted save for the girl at the counter and one Rachel Berry, who was already tucked away in a corner booth. Nose buried in a worn paperback book and a steaming cup perched precariously at the edge of the table, Quinn couldn't help but think Rachel looked like she belong. She suppressed a smart smile before realizing that she really didn't have to hide it. With a brave breath and shaky nerves, against her instincts, Quinn let her guard down and went to the other girl.

Rachel glanced up from her book as Quinn approached, sliding a finger between the pages absently to keep her place.

Taking another breath to solidify her courage — because honestly, she really wasn't sure what she was doing here in the first place — Quinn let herself smile around two nerve-wracking words. "Hey, Rachel."

"Hello, Quinn." Rachel inclined her head before glancing at Quinn's empty hands. Quinn watched the other girl's eyebrows pinch together. "You're not ordering anything?" Rachel placed her receipt in her book, set it aside, and turned to face Quinn completely.

"Maybe in a bit. I'm not feeling particularly great right now." It was true. Her stomach was a raging mess and the longer she stood there in front of Rachel the worse it got. And yet, her feet felt cemented to the floor and Quinn couldn't decide which was worse — standing there like an idiot or trying to move when her legs felt like jello and her shoes felt nailed to the floor. Thankfully, Rachel spoke up then and the break in silence seemed to release Quinn from the invisible restraints.

"Oh no. What's wrong? If you're not feeling well you didn't have to come. Do you want to go? Or I could drive you home if you don't feel well enough to yourself." Quinn really wasn't sure how Rachel could fit so many words into a single breath, but she did. Constantly.

"God no," Quinn whooshed, clumsily dropping into the booth seat across from the other girl, knocking her knee hard against the table leg. She winced but kept going. "I wouldn't have come if I was that sick. And going home would _definitely_ not help make me feel better right now. But thank you." Quinn cleared her throat uncomfortably. "For the offer, I mean."

Rachel gave her a familiar smile and an amused tilt of her head. "How are you, Quinn?" Her voice was so soft it nearly broke Quinn. "Your family couldn't have taken your… new look very well."

"That would be putting it lightly," Quinn grimaced. "Dad tried throwing me out and mom wanted to take me to her hairdresser for 'an emergency fix!'" Quinn mimicked her mother's shrill voice loudly.

Rachel frowned, looking at Quinn with so much sympathy it set her teeth on edge. "So what happened? You said your dad 'tried' to throw you out? He didn't succeed then?"

"No," Quinn answered calmly, picking at her fingers splayed across the tabletop. "My sister stepped in to defend me."

"Your sister?" Rachel leaned back in the booth, sipping at her coffee thoughtfully, waiting for a fuller explanation.

"Frannie. She just came home for the holidays but she's moving back to Ohio soon. She and her husband are splitting up, I think."

"I'm sorry," Rachel said softly but Quinn just shrugged. She wasn't married to the man. "I didn't even know you had a sister," Rachel added, sounding curious but mostly like she didn't want to pry. Just asking for any information Quinn wanted to volunteer, she guessed.

"Why would you? Frannie's a good bit older than I am and no one could say you and I have ever been friends before."

Rachel pursed her lips and stared at Quinn with furrowed eyebrows. "Is that what we are now, you think?" she asked thoughtfully, lips wrapping around each word in a way that made Quinn's stomach clench.

"I think we could be," Quinn answered simply. "If you play your cards right," she added with a wink and a badly stiffly grin.

"Well I seem to be doing something right. You did meet me here, afterall."

"True," Quinn hummed in agreement. "You're alright, I guess," she said with a playful shrug.

"I try," Rachel responded dryly, a smirk hanging on the corner of her lips. The conversation dipped to a lull for a full second before Rachel jumped back into it with fervor. "So are you and your sister close? You must be, for her to stand up to your parents like that, right?" Rachel's voice turned timid at the end, like she was afraid Quinn might take offense at the implications.

Quinn paused for a moment, struggling to find the right words. "Frannie always does whatever she thinks is right. She had seven years with nobody on her side before I came along. Seven years of trying to live up to my father's expectations, seven years as my mother's puppet, playing proper and prim. My parents have never been… tending, you could say.

"It's always rules and warnings and restrictions so tight it's surprising anyone can breathe in that house," Quinn said, her voice sounding exhausted even to her ears. "They want us to be the perfect family so much that they ruined any chance of it long before I came along. As a Fabray, when you do something wrong, it's never forgotten." Quinn paused long enough for Rachel to shift in her seat. With a breath to calm the growing swell of anger, Quinn continued, "So when I was born, I think Frannie kind of made it her goal to look after me, be the parents she lacked. My dad raised us both to 'do the right thing.' I'm just lucky that Frannie thinks the right thing to do is to be on my side when no one else will. She became the parents neither of us had."

Rachel was silent for a few long moments. "I never realized…" she trailed off before coming back in a fiery tone, "That sucks! It's just horrible. How could they do that to you? To their daughters? Raise you like robots. I can't imagine."

"They aren't that awful, Rachel. My mom's slapped me once when I brought Puck home, but other than that they've never been abusive. Not physically at least. I don't think they actually understand what they're doing." Quinn needed Rachel to understand, needed her to know that Quinn didn't think of herself as a victim. She was bigger than that, bigger than her parents would ever realize. "They just think this is how it works. That this is how to raise us right."

Rachel opened her mouth to argue but Quinn held up a hand. "Hold that thought; I'm gonna grab a drink." Honestly, Quinn still wasn't feeling up to drinking anything but she really didn't want to keep talking about this with Rachel.

Her mind was a swirling mess, and Rachel the current that was carrying it. She had never talked to anyone about her family like that, never let herself accept the fact that despite her best efforts to make it appear so, her life wasn't even close to perfect. And maybe this year was all about showing the world that, starting with Quinn herself. But this, this level of openness, this talking about her feelings, this picking apart her family — Quinn didn't sign up for this. She wasn't ready for this.

Taking a moment to gather herself, she ordered the cheapest thing she could find on the menu. She busied herself playing with an invisible string on her shirt while she waited for her iced coffee, but before it was even up, Rachel appeared at her elbow, scaring the living hell out of Quinn.

"I apologize, Quinn, both for scaring you and for the fact that I actually have to go in a minute," Rachel trailed off sounding very small. Quinn was surprised when she felt a sharp stab of disappointment tighten her chest. "But," Rachel drawled, looking shier than Quinn had ever seen the girl. She watched Rachel glance down to her shuffling feet and then peer back up at Quinn through her bangs. She licked her lips before continuing, "If you wanted, you could come along. I'm just hanging out with some friends back at my house. So if you don't have any other plans…"

"I'd love to," Quinn told her firmly. Biting her tongue, she swallowed the surge of embarrassment when it hit her how quickly she answered but, scolding herself, she shook it off stiffly. The image of Rachel's timid look was still stuck in her head and she was slowly starting to realize that whatever this pull she felt toward the girl was, Rachel seemed to be feeling it too. The thought made Quinn more determined to see this thing through. And, far more than that, determined to figure out why it mattered to her so much.

* * *

A/N: I know this was a little on the short side. I anticipate the next chapter to be a little more filling and the chapter after that should answer plenty of questions any of you might have about their back story together. I have chapter 4 planned out thoroughly and chapter 5 (the one with backstory) loosely plotted. However, if there are any questions you're dying to have answered, feel free to ask it in a review or send me a PM and I'll do my best to cover it in chapter 5 (or before, if it fits).

Also, I'm starting a new job soon, so depending on how easy the transition into it is, my updates might be slightly delayed until I've reached a new equilibrium. I'll do my best to get the next chapter done before the 22nd (because I'll be out of town and away from my laptop for the following 5 days), but reviews are honestly a writer's bread and butter. I don't rely on them because if I did I would never get anything done, but they do serve as an awesome sense of encouragement and always brighten up my day. Seriously, a line or two alone can make me grin like an idiot for hours. So if you have a second to spare, let me know what you think about the story; I promise it will be painless.

As always, thanks for reading.


	4. Remember to Breathe

A/N: So sorry it took forever to update. Thank you dearly for the reviews; they were awesome and definitely played a part in how long this chapter ended up. so with that, I won't keep you from it any longer. Enjoy Chapter 4: Remember to Breathe.

* * *

Quinn parked her car right behind Rachel's in a driveway not ten minutes from her own house. She had never known that they lived so near each other, day to day circles not crossing despite their proximity. Quinn looked up at the house caked in snow.

Rachel's home was so average that it threw Quinn off at first. It was so… un-Rachel. Perfectly unremarkable, perfectly plain, with a perfect dusting of powdery snow, and a perfectly intriguing girl standing in front of it staring at Quinn. She looked a bit self-conscious but mostly just expectant, waiting for Quinn to snap out of her thoughts and follow her inside. When Quinn met her eye, Rachel beamed, worry free and as confident as always.

"C'mon. No one else is home right now. I'll show you around." The thought was admittedly exciting; she knew Rachel Berry would not disappoint her with the ordinary. Rachel turned, trusting Quinn to follow, and she did. She was curious to see what came to Rachel's mind when she thought of home.

They paused at the doorstep long enough for Rachel to fish her keys out and unlock her house for Quinn. The doorknob was cold in her palm as Quinn closed it behind them before hesitating. She rounded to face Rachel to ask whether or not she should lock it, but Rachel beat her to it before the first word even dropped from her mouth.

"You can leave it," she said, turning to lead the way further inside. "The guys will be here soon and they'll let themselves in." For the first time, Quinn actually stopped to wonder who "the guys" were, but she didn't have time to ask; Rachel was already in the next room and Quinn didn't want to interrupt the tour.

"This is the kitchen where I do all of my vegan cooking and baking," Rachel called over her shoulder, waving a hand behind her to encompass the modest kitchen and granite-topped island. It was cleaned to a tee, all down to the cupcakes stacked attractively in the cake display. There weren't even crumbs under the glass as far as Quinn could see. She probably would have found it disturbing if it really wasn't so very Rachel.

"The dining room," she motioned to the long table in the room beyond the kitchen, "where my dads and I eat breakfast together each morning before heading to our individual daily activities."

"You know, Rachel, I do have a pretty good handle on what purpose each of these rooms serve in a house. Mine happens to have each one of its own. You don't have to explain them all to me," Quinn told her in a teasing, light tone. The Rachel Berry tour could really use less Rachel Berry-isms.

Rachel smiled faintly, taking it in stride. "I was just trying to give you a glimpse into my day-to-day, but very well." Quinn instantly wished she could take her comment back but she couldn't think of a reasonably gracious way to do it. Instead she just allowed Rachel to lead her through the rest of the house, listening to her rattle off the titles of each room before moving along quickly. Quinn sulked a little behind her, sorely wishing more words were spilling out of Rachel's mouth.

By the time they got to Rachel's room — "And this is my bedroom." — she was trying to figure out a way to provoke the other girl's word-vomit. Rachel bounced a little as she dropped onto her bed and looked Quinn over.

"And what purpose does this room serve?" Quinn asked with a sharp smirk and raised eyebrows, coming to sit next to her.

Rachel smiled smartly back. "I thought you didn't need me to spell it out for you?"

"I was wrong," Quinn admitted, letting herself sound incredibly regretful. She turned to face Rachel more fully, pulling one leg up on the edge of the bed. "You see, I don't have a bedroom in my house," Quinn told her dramatically, letting her whole face sag with desperate sadness.

"Oh yeah?" Rachel asked with a tiny smile, graciously playing along for Quinn's sake.

"Yes," Quinn vowed with a sigh so heavy it almost made her lose her poker face. "They make me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs," she admitted with a terribly unconvincing nod.

"Who said sleeping is what this room is used for?" Rachel faked astonishment. Quinn tried not to let her mind slip into the gutter with that comment. Rachel was simply playing the game, Quinn reminded herself.

"Santana and Brittany," she said quickly. "But I've only heard that. I've never witnessed it to confirm or deny."

"Well," Rachel started, turning a heartfelt look on Quinn. "_Play your cards right_," she said in only a somewhat mocking tone, "and maybe sometime we can have a sleepover so you can find out the truth of that tricky rumor." Quinn tried not to dwell on that thought either. New Years squirmed to the front of her mind before she could push it far enough away. She had been trying not to think about it at all. She wasn't sure what exactly that whole thing was and she really didn't think she was ready to tackle that particular evening yet.

"Sounds like a plan," Quinn recovered, not willing to risk something saying something playful or joking.

An easy silence started to settle over them as they each seemed to lose themselves in thought.

"Okay," Rachel said softly, sounding suspiciously like she was about to address something important and Quinn felt her heart constrict, climbing her ribcage and trying to weasel its way up her throat. She wasn't ready to talk about this yet. "One last stop to show you," Rachel said, instead of something that could pull Quinn's world down on her head. She felt a little dizzy from the letdown.

Mindlessly, she took a moment to recover, focusing on evening out her breath and trying to slow her raging pulse. She completely missed Rachel standing up and starting toward the door. She missed Rachel calling expectantly to her. She missed Rachel coming to stand in front of her. She missed the look Rachel offered her. But she didn't miss the hand held out to her. And taking it, she thought she _would_ miss horribly how soft it was, the second she'd have to let it go. And with that, she also didn't miss that sooner or later, she would need to face the facts and figure this thing out. But for now, she just gently pushed it away, hoping the next time it surfaced she would be more prepared to handle it.

Silky fingers led Quinn all the way back to the dining room where a back door allowed their escape to the Berrys' fenced in backyard. It wasn't anything special and Quinn wasn't sure why Rachel found it so important to show off to her until her eyes landed on the looming treehouse just by the edge of the fence.

"Treehouse" was actually a bit of an understatement. The thing had to have had at least three rooms and there were, ridiculously, but also predictably, considering it was Rachel Quinn was talking about here, gilded black curtains hanging over the two windows facing them. She felt a squeeze on her fingers and Rachel gently bumped against her. Quinn didn't realize how close she was until she _felt _Rachel's whisper at her ear.

"My treehouse," she explained in a drawn out voice, and Quinn could hear the curve on her lips, "where I hang out with friends and spend my free time." She paused and when she took her words back up; the smile was even more prominent in her tone. "I only tell you because I doubt that someone who lives under the stairs has even heard _rumors_ of what treehouses are for." Quinn had no idea why the words made her blush, but they did. She blamed the proximity and the devilish, playful tone Rachel was using.

"Quinn?" Startled, Quinn turned, quickly dropping her grip on Rachel's hand. Sam Evans was standing at the Berrys' back door in all his blond-haired, astonished glory. "What're… I mean.. why are you here?"

"Sam is one of the friends you were talking about?" she asked Rachel incredulously. And then to Sam, so as not to appear terribly impolite, "You're friends with Rachel?" Okay, so maybe a little impolite.

"I feel like the better question here is, you're friends with Rachel?" came from behind Sam in another voice Quinn recognized. And then Puck was standing there beside Sam as if it wasn't the oddest thing in the world.

Quinn turned on Rachel, unbelieving expression squarely fixed on her face. Rachel looked completely unphased.

"Why is everyone acting so surprised by who I choose to associate with?" Rachel asked, a little irritated, and crossed her arms. "I'm an equal opportunist, if you don't recall," she added, sounding bewildered and threw her arms out for a touch of dramatics.

"Right," Quinn breathed just as Sam sighed an apology and Puck tossed out a grumpy "Fine."

"Well then, if you're all about done, let's go," Rachel huffed a little and turned, stomping away from her guests and toward the treehouse.

Rachel's foot was just leaving the second ladder's rungs by the time Quinn and the boys reached the bottom of the platform leading to and around the base of the tree. A foot off that deck started the first steps, nailed to the tree, with a rope to hold onto on the way up. Five steps up, they ended at the second platform which was simply a triangle of flat boards somehow firmly secured. At the edge of it was a wooden step-ladder bolted from the second landing to the treehouse itself. The whole thing was… elaborate, and a little overwhelming.

Puck motioned to Quinn to go next after Sam who had made it to the second platform by the time Quinn finished her inspection of the thing. With a sharply raise eyebrow, Quinn gave him a flat look.

"Not today, Puckerman," she growled, wiping non-existent dirt off of her skirt for emphasis.

"Raincheck," he told her with a wink and a cock of his childish finger gun.

Quinn rolled her eyes and started climbing after him, realizing a little more with every step just how quickly distance added up. By the time she started up the second ladder, she was starting to worry about how much weight Rachel's treehouse could hold.

She reached the top of the steps and pulled away the heavy tarp and blanket covering the door to keep out the cold. Rachel, Sam, and Puck were already circled up in beanbag chairs and fluffy blankets. And Rachel was hold something small between her fingers. Quinn's jaw dropped when she realized what it was.

She tripped a little on the step in but still managed a strong, somewhat angry sounding, "Wait, you _smoke_?"

Rachel's head bobbed up to meet Quinn's eye and she tucked one side of her mouth back to her check in a grin. "Just weed," she said — as if that made things better — lofting the blunt so Quinn could get a better look.

"You smoke weed?" Quinn asked again. "But what about your voice? Your voice is everything to you."

Rachel cocked her head a little to the side and smiled. "It's not everything, Quinn. But even so, I do take care of myself. I don't smoke often enough to hurt my voice terribly, and singing in the winter can be hard on it anyway, so I've been resting it more than usual. Have you never smoked?"

Quinn shook her head, feeling a bit like she had stepped into a twilight zone.

"It's weed, Fabray. Everyone smokes it sometime. It's really not bad for you. Loosen up," Puck grumbled lightly.

"And the high makes you feel weightless, like nothing could bring you down ever again," Sam added with a pretty smile that was too big for his face.

"There's no pressure at all for you to join us. It's just a way we like to relax and hang out." Rachel held a lighter to the brown paper and puffed twice before removing the flame. She blew out a little smoke and then put her lips to the blunt and sucked again. The end glowed orange and red, and then dimmed as Rachel pulled away and passed it to Puck.

Quinn was still completely lost. Rachel Berry smoked weed — and did so habitually, Quinn guessed, watching how polished the interactions were between the three as they passed the blunt on. When it reached her, Quinn realized she had been so mystified by what was going on that she hadn't even considered the idea of joining them. Sam held it out to her and her eyes skimmed over the room as she thought about it. Rachel and Puck didn't even appear to be paying attention, talking between themselves about some band, and Quinn couldn't place why their disinterest seemed to put her so at ease.

She took the blunt carefully and paused. Biting her lip, she cleared her throat and aimed her eyes in Rachel's direction. "I'm not really sure how to do this," she told Rachel, fighting back a blush she wasn't at all acquainted with.

"That's okay. The main thing to keep in mind is to inhale and hold for a moment. Take a pull and if you're not sure you inhaled, take a little breath of air before letting go of the smoke."

With a hopefully-unnoticed shake in her hand, Quinn put the blunt to her lips and did her best to remember to inhale, which she quickly realized was harder to do when thinking about it. She was going to take an extra breath for good measure but the second she opened her throat, she was coughing. She shoved the blunt out to whoever wanted it and covered her mouth with the other hand. As soon as the it left her fingers, someone was replacing it with a cool bottle of water and then a bucket was slowly pushed into view.

The coughing slowed enough to allow a gravely "What's with the bucket?" and nothing more.

"It's in case you puke, Fabray," Puck said around a mouthful of smoke and a self-righteous smirk.

"What?" she asked, voice still rough. It felt like her throat was on fire and no matter how much water she chugged, it still didn't help. She found herself sorely wishing for ice to suck on.

"Sometimes, especially starting out, coughing from the smoke can make you puke. Though it's really more like spit up, I guess," Sam told her and then puffed on the blunt Puck passed him.

She grimaced and pushed the bucket away from her with the toe of her shoe. The blunt was already back around to her by the time she had completely gotten control of her breathing, though every time she swallowed she was reminded what it felt like to have a throat full of smoke. She shook her head violently towards Sam's sheepish smile and the brandished blunt.

"Puck, why don't you grab Ralf from his case," Rachel said. "And put some ice in him," she added as Puck grumbled, but moved away and pulled a case off of a shelf at the back of the room. Out of the case Puck pulled a large glass _something_, and Quinn watched him pour part of a bottle of water into it and then top it off with half the tray of ice he pulled from the windowsill. The thing was tall, about two feet high, and basically looked like a glass tube, wider around the base with a smaller tube protruding from there.

Rachel had already put out the blunt Sam handed her and was cutting a slit all the way down the side of what was left. She scraped out the insides — the _weed_ — and pinched it into a small, round piece of glass that Puck pulled from the top of the protruding tube and handed to her. She fitted the round piece back into its original place and Quinn couldn't help but think the whole thing looked terrifying.

"One hit off of this and you'll be sailing, if you want to give it one more go," Rachel offered, scooting to sit a little closer to Quinn, bringing the thing — Ralf — with her. "This is a bong — or water pipe, is the technical term. It hits heavy but smooth, and gets you, pardon my French, high as a fucking kite. It's safe to say that it gets the job done — maximum effect, minimal effort and pain." She pushed it a tiny bit closer to Quinn. "If you'd like to try again. I completely understand if you don't; there's no shame in it."

Rachel put her mouth to the top of the bong and held a lighter to the top of the round piece. The sound it made as Rachel hit it reminded Quinn of blowing bubbles in her milk as a kid. She watched smoke lazily fill the cylindrical base and swallowed uncomfortably at the thought of breathing it.

Rachel pulled out the piece she had put the weed into and then slurped up the smoke caught inside the glass. Looking at Quinn with a smirk, she blew a cloud of smoke in her direction. It wafted into Quinn's chest and she allowed herself to breathe in gently.

"Up to you, kid," Rachel told her kindly with a shrug and held her eye for a moment.

With a long exhale and solemn nod, Quinn breathed a heavy, "Okay," and slid a little closer to the pipe. And Rachel.

"Mouth here," Rachel directed, pointing. "I'll light it for you. Just suck in when I tell you, pause long enough to let me pull the slide out, and then breathe in what's in the tube." As if it was that easy.

Quinn placed her mouth where she was told to and then Rachel lit the lighter and too soon for Quinn's taste, Rachel told her to pull.

"Little harder," Rachel encouraged her gently and then moved the flame away when the weed caught and glowed. "Okay, take your mouth away and release that breath." Quinn pulled away and exhaled shakily. "Now breathe, and be sure you're inhaling it."

Quinn sucked hard, the pull way easier now that the "slide" was gone and, overestimating, Quinn got a enormous chest full of smoke she was not prepared to handle. She immediately started coughing and it only took a second before she lunged for the previously rejected bucket. She felt her stomach squeeze in on itself, pushing out anything left in it. Gagging and disgusted, she swished and spit water to the sound of ridiculous cheers from the other three, but she was too busy coughing to glare and tell them to shut it. By the time she managed to regain her composure and stop hacking, she turned to Rachel.

"What the hell?" _Cough_. "Are you trying to get back at me for picking on you in middle school or something?" Quinn croaked, only somewhat joking. "And what's with the applause? I just puked, for God's sake."

"Yeah, but you took a massive hit, before you did! I'm impressed, _pinkie_," Puck told her with a slow nod and a look that made it seem like he was sizing her up.

She glared and he stuck his tongue out at her. For some reason that made Quinn snort, and then she couldn't stop laughing. Sam started too, then, coughing as he exhaled the smoke he just sucked out of "Ralf." Puck just looked at them with a cocked eyebrow and amused grin. Rachel's face slowly brimmed at the edge of Quinn's vision, brilliant smile on her lips and eyes roving over Quinn. Quinn's giggles left her falling into Rachel, bumping shoulders on the way down and spurring the other girl into her own fit of laughter.

Rachel quickly got control of herself and looked a little more seriously at Quinn. "How do you feel?" she asked toward her lap, where Quinn was now settling her head. Tan fingers confidently raked through blonde hair as if they did this every day, and Quinn hummed contently, both at the feeling and the thought.

"Good. I feel really good. My nose feels a little tingly." Quinn booped her own nose, adding sound effects and all, and laughed at herself. It didn't take long after that for her to realize she was stupid high. She started to feel a little embarrassed that it took so long to dawn on her, but the feeling ebbed away before it could stick, whisked right out of her head by the floating feeling swirling there.

Thoughts came and went, slippery and disconnected, or striking but fleetly brilliant. And trying to explain any of them to the others was useless. They were all on severely different levels, and by the time Sam started talking about how it felt like the ceiling was hugging each of them, Quinn made the executive decision that rolling over and tucking her face against Rachel's abdomen was the best course of action left to take. It didn't take long for her to drift into light dreams filled with treehouse palaces, ceilings with hulking arms, a talking bong that kept blowing smoke in her face, and disembodied fingers that chased Quinn around trying to pull her hair.

* * *

Hope it was worth the wait.

Thanks for reading.


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